


Noah Maxwell in a Thousand Words

by mechanicalreproductions



Series: Random Word Generator [1]
Category: Slender Man Mythos, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Study, Cults, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Other, Social Isolation, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicalreproductions/pseuds/mechanicalreproductions
Summary: After countless of his loved ones were taken by the hands of his own curse, Noah's heart became concave.





	Noah Maxwell in a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a series, where I explore characters through short drabbles, each prompted by a randomly-generated word.

 

**FUGITIVE**

The pattern went as follows: fear, then rage, then sorrow, then numbness. Noah tried to drown fugitive feelings in whatever poison was cheapest and most easily attainable. He hated how intoxication made him feel. He hated coming to terms with how pathetic he’d become, when he realized he couldn’t even stand himself up without puking. He hated spending his nights wishing he’d just drown in his own vomit, so he didn’t have to face himself in the morning. But still, it was a sufficient escape. From what? At this point, Noah couldn’t even remember. That was his plan all along.

 

**POISONOUS**

Noah continuously indulged himself in poison, because he was poisonous to others. No one in his life was better off for having known him- in fact, it was regularly the opposite. Anyone who had ever tried to help him- Sarah and Kat, Chris and Alex, Milo and Kevin- had their lives poisoned by him. Noah couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t punish himself. He didn’t want to drink, or smoke, or stay up all night alone with his sick thoughts eating away at his sanity- but he had to. He had to suffer like they did. He would make himself.

 

**FRACTURE**

Summer, 1989 was the only time in his life Noah Maxwell broke a bone. He, Milo, and Kevin snuck away to play in the junkyard, a favorite pastime of theirs. It was a welcome distraction from the pressures of pre-teen life, but tonight Noah made the mistake of showing off- climbing a pile of debris. He recalls the disgusting snap of the fracture as he hit the ground- and he remembered the searing pain in his ankle- but he remembered fearing his parents’ reactions more. If his friends hadn’t forced him to the emergency room, he may have never gone.

 

**VIBRATOR**

When Noah wasn’t turning to substance abuse to numb himself to his pain, he was turning to sex- simulated sex, at least. While he longed for the touch of another person, as he clouded his suffering with the haze of an orgasm, he couldn’t trust himself around anybody. Even hiring a prostitute off Craigslist, could lead to someone innocent getting hurt. Why not? Everybody else he’d touched, he’d wiped his problems off on their sleeve. He spent most nights alone, with a bottle of whatever, and a vibrator. It was pathetic, but it was all he was allowed to have.

 

**DIABOLATRY**

Nothing- absolutely nothing else he’d ever been through- compared to how utterly terrified Noah felt as he faced the Order. The Overseer was a round, stout man, who barely stood to Noah’s chest. Yet, his voice was booming, echoing, and his followers lurked behind him like demons hiding out in the shadows. Noah could taste the sickening diabolatry in the air as he trembled pathetically before the cult. Even when he screamed and cursed at them, his voice quivered. He felt like he was a lamb, about to be sacrificially slaughtered. He heard the devil in that deceptively beautiful voice.

 

**CONCAVE**

After countless of his loved ones were taken by the hands of his own curse, Noah’s heart became concave. He didn’t feel as if he were capable of love, any more. He tried to regard whoever came into his life, trying to help him, with as little emotion as he could muster. Vinnie, Evan, and Jeff, Chris, Alex, Stan- they didn’t mean anything to him. They couldn’t mean anything to him. They would likely die, too, and it would be entirely his fault. He didn’t know how many more corpses he could carry on his back, before he broke down.

 

**AROMA**

Why were very specific people targeted by the man in the suit? Noah found, as time went on, that it really only wanted some people, and would completely ignore others. He realized this while browsing Stan Frederick’s channel one night- Stan points out that the thing would torment its victims relentlessly, while disregarding those it wasn’t interested in. If it didn’t want you, you could stand right in front of it with no fear of harm coming to you. He wondered what sort of aroma clung to the poor victims of the monster, that made it crave them so desperately.

 

**DIRECTOR**

Everyone treated Noah’s life like it was a film. While he was grateful for his supporters, he became increasingly frustrated, wondering whether they wanted to give him help or if they thought they were harmlessly consuming a horror movie. Sometimes, when he was at his least stable, he also pondered which was true. Was he some sort of method actor who had lost his mind? Was he some sort of director of a project spiralling out of control? Was he some sort of liar who was dictating how his audience perceives him? Yes, in a way, but to what extent?

 

**HEARING**

Noah often wished he would lose his hearing. He was gradually being pushed into unbearable madness by each sound he heard in the dead of night- even more so by the ones that were unidentifiable. Sometimes, his demons would torment him with those sounds- animalistic scratching in the walls, hysterical sobbing from inside of Milo’s journal, sadistic laughter from the darkest corner of his bedroom-  other times, his subconscious would do that tormenting for him. He occasionally lay awake at night, thinking, _If I stuck knives in my ears, would I still have to listen to this shit?_ Most likely.

 

**DISTRIBUTE**

There were many more channels like TribeTwelve- many more people who were suffering like Noah was. It raised the question, of whether or not there are also more creatures like the man in the suit. Not creatures like HABIT, or the Collective, or Patrick Andersen- but identical creatures. Maybe, everyone had an Administrator of their own. Noah wasn’t sure which was worse- the possibility of there being multiples of this unfathomably horrific being, or the possibility that it was able to distribute itself as it pleased. Either way, it’s power to be in so many places at once terrified him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appriciated, especially constructive criticism.


End file.
